Responsibility
by fang1
Summary: Of Mice and Men fic. Focuses on the scene where George shoots Lennie.


Responsibility  
  
George's P.O.V.  
  
I angrily swiped at the leaves ahead of me. Them guys at the ranch are probably tracking me   
down right now. I knew they would. I thought over it for a while, and decided that it ain't   
right of me to allow them to hunt him down like some rabid dog. He'd die painfully at their   
hands, that's for sure. I didn't want it to happen this way, but what choice did I have?   
  
I kept thinking over what old Candy said after Carlson killed his dog: "I ought to of shot   
that dog myself, George. I shouldn't of let no stranger shoot my dog." He was right. I ain't   
gonna let no stranger take Lennie's life like that. If he had to die, it would be by my hands.   
So I took Carlson's gun and left by my lonesome. I wouldn't count on them finding me very   
quickly.  
  
I neared the brush, but stopped before coming through.  
  
"George-George!"   
  
Oh, Jesus. The crazy bastard was calling for me. I came out in the open and asked him,   
"What the hell you yellin' about?" He knows. He knows I went there to kill him.  
  
"You ain't gonna leave me, are ya, George? I know you ain't."   
  
I went and sat down beside him. "No," I heard myself say. You're gonna leave me. I   
remembered the first time we came here. He had offered to go off in the hills and find a cave   
and live by his lonesome. It seemed like a good idea now.   
  
"I knowed it," he said loudly. "You ain't that kind."  
  
No, Lennie. I'm much worse. Go off to that cave before - "  
  
"George." He interrupted.  
  
"Yeah?" Run, Lennie, run.  
  
"I done another bad thing."   
  
"It don't make no difference." I told him truthfully.  
  
I couldn't bear to look at him right then, but I had a pretty good idea of how he looked   
when he told me this. The same way he always looks when he does something wrong. The corners of   
his mouth are down, drooping with the rest of his face, making his manner almost pensive. But   
the eyes destroy that. They get really wide, like a child's. They search imploringly for some   
reassurance that I forgave him; that everything would be back to normal.   
  
The sunlight was fading fast. I studied a group of fresh green leaves spurting from the   
trunk of a tree on the bank of the river. The tree was rotting on the bottom. I heard hollering   
in the distance and cocked my head to listen. They were coming.  
  
"George," he said again.  
  
"Yeah?" I should probably kill him soon.  
  
"Ain't you gonna give me hell?"   
  
"Give ya hell?" What? No, I was hoping you'd go to heaven.  
  
"Sure, like you always done before. Like, 'If I di'n't have you I'd take my fifty bucks -'"  
  
"Jesus Christ, Lennie! You can't remember nothing that happens, but you remember ever' word   
I say."   
  
"Well, aint you gonna say it?"  
  
He's right; I should. "If I was alone I could live so easy." I formed the words with a mouth   
full of sawdust. "I could get a job an' not have no mess." That was true. That's how it's gonna   
be. When the end of the month comes, there'd be no point in saving my money anymore. That future   
included him, and it's gonna hurt too much to achieve it without him. I know it will. It already   
does.  
  
"Go on." He urged me. "An' when the enda the month come - "  
  
"An' when the end of the month come I could take my fifty bucks an' go to a . . . cat   
house . . ." I kept thinking about how he looked after I pulled him half-drowned out of the   
river I told him to jump in. Would he have that same look of gratitude if he survived this blow?  
  
"Go on, George. Ain't you gonna give me no more hell?"  
  
"No," I decided. I didn't want to spend the last few minutes we had together yelling at him.  
  
"Well, I can go away." He offered. "I'll go right off in the hills an' find a cave if you   
don' want me."  
  
No, I was ready to do this. He'd probably die of starvation in the hills anyway. "No. I want   
you to stay with me here."  
  
"Tell me like you done before."  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
" 'Bout the other guys an' about us."  
  
I began. "Guys like us got no fambly." My nose was a little stuffed up. "They make a little   
stake 'an then they blow it in. They ain't got nobody in the worl' that gives a hoot in hell   
about 'em - "   
  
"But not us," he cried happily. "Tell about us now."  
  
With us it's different. Instead of leaving you well alone, I got to kill you. Because if I   
don't, they will. It'll hurt less this way, Lennie. "But not us," I agreed.  
  
"Because - "   
  
"Because I got you an' - "  
  
"An' I got you. We got each other, that's what, that gives a hoot in hell about us," He   
cried in triumph.  
  
The shouts of the men were coming closer now. I'd better do it quick. I took off my hat.   
Tried to keep my voice from quavering. "Take off your hat, Lennie. The air feels fine."  
  
He obeyed, then said, "Tell how it's gonna be."  
  
"Look acrost the river, Lennie an' I'll tell you so you can almost see it." I instructed him.  
  
He turned his head. "We gonna get a little place..." I took out the gun, snapped off the   
safety. I looked at the back of his head. The target. The voices of the men were getting closer. I heard Lennie say something. I raised the gun, intending to do it, but my hand shook and I lowered the gun. I have to do this. I have to.  
  
"Go on," Lennie spoke. "How's it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."  
  
"We'll have a cow," I continued. "An' we'll have maybe a pig an' chickens...an' down the   
flat we'll have a..." - I wanted to cry. - "...little piece alfalfa - "  
  
" - for the rabbits!" Lennie cried out.  
  
(He's never gonna get that never ever) "For the rabbits." I echoed.  
  
"And I get to tend the rabbits."  
  
"An' you get to tend the rabbits."  
  
I tried to ignore his giggles of happiness. Lennie does that sometimes. His voice is usually   
regular-pitched for a guy, but when he giggles, his voice gets high-pitched. It was oddly   
endearing to hear his laughter. "An' live on the fatta the lan'," he went on with our fantasy.   
  
"Yes." He swiveled around halfway. "No, Lennie," I quickly said. "Look acrost the river,   
like you can almost see the place." He turned again, and I looked down at Carlson's gun.  
  
"Go on, George. When we gonna do it?" He asked, sounding like a child.  
  
"Gonna do it soon." I answered firmly.  
  
"Me an' you." His voice was full of happiness and affirmation.  
  
"You..."(gonna do it real soon my friend) "...an' me. Ever'body gonna be nice to you. Ain't   
gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor steal from 'em." I had gone too far, but   
I didn't care.  
  
He sensed this too. "I thought you was mad at me, George." I never got over things this   
quickly. I'd usually yell at him for a real long time before I'd cool down and started being   
nice again. I did it even though I knew it wasn't his fault that he got things wrong sometimes.   
But I didn't feel like doing that. Like I said before, I didn't want to yell at him. I wasn't   
really mad (how could I be), and I told him so.  
  
"No. No, Lennie. I ain't mad. I never been mad, an' I ain't now. That's a thing I want ya   
to know." I raised the gun and tried to estimate by sound how far away the men were.  
  
"Le's do it now." Lennie pleaded. "Le's get that place now."  
  
"Sure, right now. I gotta" "(do this). We gotta."   
  
I held the gun up to right behind his head. My hand still shook, but I knew that this was my   
last chance to kill him myself. Gotta do this. Got to. I felt the trigger pull back gently   
behind my finger. Please stay still, I pleaded silently. I felt a slight recoil from the gun,   
but I don't remember ever hearing the shot. The big body went limp, and it was over.  



End file.
